Seeing how last night was a replay of this older Trilema story (in its structure if not necessarily all anecdotal detail), notwithstanding a distance of decades in time and tens of thousands of miles in space (which is how I ended up sleeping until five in the evening of this lovely Spring Sunday here in Buenos Aires), I am both enlightened as to the nature and substance of the circulatory Cosmos as well as inclined to recount. So then :

I don't exactly recall in which gradei this happened but nor does it much matter - the point is that some friends spontaneously organised at some point on a Thursday that the parents of one of them leave suddenly for business or whatever and he'll be left with the keys to the cabin so he's throwing a party! Where they'll all take their girlfriends TO FUCK THEM!!!11 and don't I want to come ? Mkay, I'ma come.

This, Thursday, in school.

The next break, but am I coming with a chick, like them, right ? I'm not gonna be a sucker and not come with a chick because I realise, we'll be alone at the cabin and we can FUCK THEM!!!11 I didn't retort that simmer down, I can also fuck them in the park or the apartment complex stairwell and generally speaking what I fuck tends to have its own place, to not ruin their joy. So yes, yes, I'ma come with some chick if I can find one willing to come.

The next break, but which one ? I dunno dood, whichever I find. But with Andrea ?! This was some hottie that made a bunch drool, mignonne but intenseii. Or the blondy ? Or with Z ? So they had like a list. Doods, I dunno, lemme ask, let's see, kay ? What the fuck do you care, we're only leaving tomorrow anyway.

That same evening, on the phone, can't I fix for a car ? Because hurr, durriii the kid that was going to bring the car is no longer allowed to come because his dad found out he aims to drive it to Baisoaraiv and what if he falls in the ravine etc. So these cool dudes, six or so by headcount (can't recall exactly how many, but a lot because the joyous cabin owner announced the matter in their class and the circle of invitees kept expanding de facto) were not capable in the end of getting ... a ... car. Nevermind, we'll go by train. How the fuck are we going by train BECAUSE THEN THE CUNTS WON'T WANNA FUCK!!!!! You realise how this logic works, they're gonna come with you to spend the weekend in a cabin so as not to have sex, because they came by train. We'll take a bus, yo, shut up. I hang up, I call a guy working at some sort of travel agency, dood, are you in town ? Yes. Well, take the van come along to Baisoara ? Man.. I dunno. Come along, we're going with promising youth and THEIR CUNTS, which THEY WILL FUCK, you realise ? It'll be lulzy. Man... I'll take you but can't stay there because what if the boss sees the van missing what the fuck.

And with this theory I wake up Friday morning whenever I do, I call this guy to start over towards my place, I dress, I take the girlbook in order to see who feels like going out, run into one who will, years later, win me a fart contest, I'm coming to pick you up, the van dude shows up, I climb upfront, we pick up the girl, then we go pick up the doods from the meeting spot, at "the bus stop".v

There lined up, four kids, dressed well, you know, thick, so they don't die of cold in the Antarctica around the experimental station where they had some stuff to do right after. And with bags, backpacks, problems and matters - one had a whole jorganvi (his mother provided lest he catches his death of cold, you understand). But also a fascinating scarcity of the principal object of the whole activity, which is to say THE CUNTS THEY WERE GOING TO FUCK!!!1 Who were either to be found all tied up in the trunk of their respective elegantersvii or otherwise weren't to be found at all.

So while we ride to Baisoara (to get an idea, about 50 kilometers) I inquire with the fellows in all delicacy, as to where's the rest (parents didn't allow them to come), as to where's the cunts (well, that, this, whatever). The poor driver could barely drive for all the trying not too laugh. Thus we arrive at the cabin, we settle comfortably, coquette construction but two bedrooms, so I requisitioned the larger one because whosoever has the cunt makes the rules, and the lot of them fit just fine on the livingroom couch as well as the bunk beds in the other room, big whoop.

While they unpack the nine billion eight hundred thousand and a half bottles of alcohol they had surreptitiously as well as clandestinely prepared for the operation of fucking absent cunts (note that the majuscules got a little flacid, what can you do). We drink a little and what to do now ?

LET'S PLAY POKER!!1 Mkay. BUT STRIP POKER!!! Lol. Mkay. So the guy takes the set for playing poker (strip poker!) from wherever his father had it stashed for when that father FUCKED THE CUNT!!!!, we split out the chips, I explain twice to make sure they actually grok hold'em rules and we proceed. The chick wasn't some kind of poker genius, but in no case did she find herself stranded at the level of schoolkids, to advertise the contents in neon lights on all sides. So on the table, A J 8. The girl held an Ace and I don't recall what, small. I call, she raises, the dudes pay. Another Ace lands. Girl figures me for either Ace or Jack, two Jacks in the worst case, and the kids broken straights. So she judged in her mind that she can push it, not like I'm gonna burn her now, what, so she goes all in.

The big problem being that I had no A, no K, no J. But 6 and 3. Hearts. Just like the J and 8 on the table. And the last Ace. So five. Which are better than her three bits. Pisi bring over your top. She looks at me, what do you figure it's worth ? A hundred, I say. At the time the dollar went something like 7-8k, so a hundred thousand was real money.viii Girl stands up, takes off her top, puts it on the table, sits back down, takes off her booties, stands back up, undoes her jeans, pushes them off her ass, takes them off, puts them on the top, takes off her stockings, on the top, takes off whatever lingerie piece she was wearing, puts it on the stockings, opens her bra, looks at the completely lost kids, puts it on the table, looks at me, I smile at her, she takes off her panties, puts them on the bra and sits back down.

Six, she says. Listen, but do you suck cock ? I question her with sudden interest. Yes! Half and half ? Yes! Anal ? Negotiable, she says. Well alright kitten, let's negotiate. I grabbed her by the scruff all delicate-like and we went to negotiate. And the doods were left TO PLAY POKER IN MY COCK!!ix

In the morn I called a boy to come pick us up and we split, leaving the good fellows to continue as shown, because hey, they've all the time in the world. I told the story to the driver, who broke up laughing, but about the time we were coming down the Feleacx he says "and the clothes ?" Serious boy, economical, from the countryside. The soulxi, says the missus, there wasn't a scrap left in the morning. You owe me stockingsxii. AND OTHER THINGS, she underlines.

I suppose at this juncture it is spurious to mention that for the coming months I found from numerous fonts and sources what kickass cunts these guys crushed on the occasion and what suckers were they who didn't show up, yes ?

As you might be aware, Romanian allows a large number of alternative spellings of "whore". As you're probably not aware, Romanian also allows a large number of alternative spellings of very many things. It's a highly figurative language, so to speak. For instance "you owe me stockings" is a plain statement of female submission, with the intension that "you owe me stockings [and if you get me some you're more than welcome to ruin those, as well] and the implication that she's yours to do with as you please so kindly don't break anything important. [↩]